mmer's morning, to spend his penny (when he happened to have one) on a
bunch of flowers, to lay on papa's plate, to surprise him when he came
in to breakfast. Not much farther off was the Temple Garden, where Mrs.
Proctor took her children every fine summer evening to walk and breathe
the air from the river; and when Mr. Proctor could find time to come to
them for a turn or two before the younger ones must go home to bed, it
seemed to the whole party the happiest and most beautiful place in the
whole world,--except one. They had once been to Broadstairs, when the
children were in poor health after the measles: and for ever after, when
they thought of the waves beating on the shore, and of the pleasures of
growing strong and well among the sea-breezes, they felt that there
might be places more delightful than the Temple Garden: but they were
still very proud and fond of the grass and trees, and the gravel walks,
and the view over the Thames, and were pleased to show off the garden to
all friends from the country who came to visit them.

The greatest privilege of all, however, was that they could see the
river without going out of their own house. There were three back
windows to the house, one above another; and from the two uppermost of
these windows there was what the children called a view of the Thames.
There was a gap of a few yards wide between two high brick houses: and
through this gap might be seen the broad river, with vessels of every
kind passing up or down. Outside the second window were some leads,
affording space for three or four chairs: and here it was that Jane and
Agnes liked to sit at work, on certain hours of fine days. There were
times when these leads were too hot, the heat of the sun being reflected
from the surrounding brick walls; but at an earlier hour before the
shadows were gone, and when the air blew in from the river, the place
was cool, and the little girls delighted to carry their stools to the
leads, and do their sewing there. There Philip would condescend to spend
a part of his mornings, in his Midsummer holidays, frightening his
sisters with climbing about in dangerous places, or amusing them with
stories of school-pranks, or raising his younger brother Hugh's envy of
the boys who were so happy as to be old enough to go to school at Mr.
Tooke's, at Crofton.

The girls had no peace from their brothers climbing about in dangerous
places. Hugh was, if possible, worse than Philip for this.